liptonrm_backup | (no subject)

Happy Christmas Eve Day, mes amis! As is traditional, I will now share a Christmas Eve text with you all. This year's text is taken from Jack the Bodiless by Julian May.

Jon Paul Kendall Remillard had philosophical difficulties with the concept of Christmas. That the scraggly little evergreen tree his mother was trimming was a midwinter hope symbol was easy enough to understand from the explanations and mental images Teresa offered. But the notion of God creating a body for himself to wear--and even Creation itself--bothered Jack.

He said: It seems a very strange and unnecessary thing for God to do. To become human so that we'd love him rather than fear him. If he's truly a Supreme Being then it follows that he has no need of any other entity to ensure his own happiness. Especially entities that are so imperfect by their very nature that they will inevitably befoul an otherwise orderly creation. I can understand God creating the physical universe for fun. But why create other minds when you know they're going to mess things up?

Teresa was fastening diminutive candles made of moose tallow to the Christmas treee, which was hardly 60 centimeters tall. Each candle had a kind of saucer clip of aluminum foil to fasten it to the branch, but if one wasn't careful either the foil or the soft candle would crush. She had already spoiled three candles by working too fast, trying to have the tree finished before Rogi got back inside after his wood-splitting. The festive dinner was almost ready to put on the table.

"I seem to remember that the theologians of early times were quite positive that God had no absolute need to create other thinking persons," Teresa said. "This is perfectly ridiculous, of course, since the theologians were willing to concede that he had done it and must have a good reason. Now, unless we're ready to admit that a Supreme Being can be capricious or wishy-washy, it follows that he needed to do it. He did need us.

But what prompted God's need of us?

"Love," said Teresa.

The fetus said: That's irrational.

"Exactly. I don't believe anyone has ever reasoned out a satisfactory answer to God's need of us. Those religions outside the Judeo-Christian traditon rarely hit upon the notion of a loving God at all. As for natural philosophy, loving-kindness would not be an attribute that one would logically deduce that a Big-Bang-Creator-God would have."

Hardly.

"But love is the only motive that seems to make any sense. Without it, you have the Creator-God as a game player trying to assuage his cosmic boredom, caring about us only as game pieces. That is to say, not caring very much! Now, if God wanted us to know that he created us out of love, he'd have to tell us, since we couldn't figure it out for ourselves. He'd have to get directly involved with us, rather than let us tick along obliviously the way the evolving nonsapient universe does.

Pinching and twisting, Teresa affixed one little candle after another, pausing now and then to straighten those that leaned out of true. "God's most elegant way of involving himself with us would have to be a scandal to the stodgy-minded and a delight to minds that have a sense of humor and of adventure. As his mind does.

God can laugh?

"Of course, dear, and feel sorrowful, too. A Suprme Being without those attributes wouldn't be supreme. Grim and joyless people try to pretend otherwise, but their arugments are unpersuasive."

What a strange idea.

"There's an old proverb that says: 'God writes straight with crooked lines.' Human history is just full of crooks and twists and twines. One would think anarchy or barbarism or the lowest common denominator would have triumphed ages ago. But it hasn't. All the messes and atrocities and disasters have somehow been woven into a construct that looks better and better every year--at the same time that some things look even worse! The world you're going to be born into is a wonderland compared to the world that existed only forty years ago or so in the past. But even so, there are still persons who are discontented or who are villains, and situations that are evil or tragic. Nevertheless we children of God continue to evolve and improve on every level, almost in spite of ourselves. That also has something to do with nonlinearity and chaos. And God's love, too."

The fetus said: That is very mysterious. Contrary to common sense!

Teresa only laughed. "Do you like the Christmas tree?" She had just installed the star and now moved back a pace or two to study the effect. The little spruce stood on the table in front of the window. It was trimmed with origami cranes made of foil, tiny oatmeal cookies, and gnomes made from pine cones and wire; sculpted hard-baked dough colored with cosmetics formed their tiny heads, hands, and feet.

Mama--

But at that moment a booted foot began to kick loudly against the door, and Teresa hurried to open it for Rogi. He lurched in, weighted down by a great quantity of wood and enveloped in flying snow and Arctic air.

"Woof! This ought to keep us warm for an hour or two!" He dropped the frozen load, which overflowed the woodbox, and began to shuck off his outer garments. "Something smells mighty good in here."

"Roast moose tenderloin larded with garlic-salted moose fat. Moose consomme with moose-marrow dumplings and carrots. Rice with moose-and-mushroom gravy. And rum raisin tarts made with moose-fat shortening." She busied herself at the stove, pouring hot water into two cup, then added other ingredients while Rogi sat on the stool close to the stove, removed his boots, and wriggled his stockinged toes to restore their circulation.

Teresa held out a steaming drink, which Rogi took and sniffed with incredulous delight. "Hot buttered rum? But I thought all the margarine was long gone."

"One thinks ahead," said Teresa solemnly. She lifted her own cup. "A la bonne votre, mon cher ami. And merry Christmas."

"Joyeux Noel to you," Rogi said, "and to Ti-Jean."

They touched cups, drank, and kissed each other lightly. Then she made him sit down at the table and begin carving the roast, while she brought the rest of their meal and lit candles on the tree.

"Don't worry. I have a bucket of water and a wet cloth handy. We won't risk a conflagration." She slipped into her place. She had turned off the two powered lamps, and the two of them sat for a moment side by side with private thougts, looking at the tiny dancing flames and their reflections in the frost-encrusted window and drinking the aromatic rum.

"It won't hurt him, will it?" Rogi asked after a while. "The liquor?"

Teresa shook her head, smiling. "It's well-watered, and he's old enough to handle a little bit ... aren't you, baby?

The fetus said: It alters my consciousness. Curious! I'll study the matter.

Both Rogi and Teresa laughed. And then they asked a blessing and began to eat.

~~~

Feliz Navidad, Merry Christmas, and very Happy Holidays to you, my dearest friends! May the season, and the coming year, treat you as magnificently as you all deserve!